


Literary Devices

by Carmenian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, F/M, Private School
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenian/pseuds/Carmenian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French is a young but highly skilled and much sought-after English teacher who has been offered a job at Thenceden Academy, a very expensive and prestigious boarding school in the countryside. Sic infit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Setting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This is my first OUaT fic so feedback would be much appreciated. I really hope you enjoy it!  
> Happy reading,  
> Carmenian  
> PS.  
> Prompts are welcome :D

The building, proudly surveying the vast and perfectly manicured grounds, was massive. The morning sun shone through the low cloud cover and onto the ivy-adorned stone exterior. Though it was clearly very old, the castle-like behemoth seemed to be in impeccable condition, the deeply engraved letters clearly legible above the lavish front doors: Thencedan Academy. If the outside was lavish, the inside did not disappoint. The walls were carved hardwood, a honey colour far paler than the dark wood of the floor. Where there were no intricate carvings in the walls, they were covered by delicately woven tapestries. The building was more than fit for a king, and yet there were no kings, in fact, she had not seen a soul since entering the building and finding a seat outside of the main office, as instructed. Now she fiddled nervously with the hem of her skirt, feeling horribly underdressed. She was sure that she had never set foot anywhere so grand as this and here she was, in a tweed skirt and tights, a burgundy blazer over her black patterned blouse and black lace-up wedges. She must look like a pauper from a fairy tale who had stumbled up the gates to look for shelter.

“Miss French, I presume?”

The voice cut through her reverie, pulling her abruptly back to reality. She looked up. A short woman with a straight-to-business kind of face that was unnervingly made up to look sweet was standing by the office door. Belle stood quickly, offering her hand. “Yes, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Ghorm.”

Taking her hand, the woman laughed, it was a sound slightly too similar to wind chimes. “Please, call me Rhonda.”

“Belle.”

“Well, Belle, we are certainly very happy to have you. I’ve heard all about your outstanding work, the entire region is clamoring for you, I’m just glad that you considered us.”

Belle laughed uncomfortably, hoping that Rhonda wouldn’t notice how small she felt in the colossal building.

“I thought that we’d start with a tour and an outline of what most of our teachers’ lives are like here. We can talk about housing, responsibilities, workdays, pay, anything you like. Please, don’t hesitate to ask questions or make requests. The Council instructed me to do anything in my power so that you will choose us.”

“That’s very kind of you, please thank the Council for their hospitality.”

Rhonda inclined her head. “Of course. Shall we?”

Belle nodded and fell into step beside Rhonda. 

As they walked, Rhonda pointed out sections of the walls, explaining their history or symbolism. Belle listened with rapt attention to the stories of this place that may become her new home.

When they passed the first classroom the conversation changed. Instead of sightseeing, now they were discussing work. Rhonda guided Belle through several classrooms, pointing out the top-of-the-line educational tools and dropping hints such as “Our teachers are given the freedom to teach as they see fit.” and “Teachers can put in requests for any supplies they deem necessary and the Council does their best to make it happen - whether it be new textbooks or a SmartBoard.” 

Belle was utterly enchanted when Rhonda handed her a seemingly average copy of  To Kill a Mockingbird  and said: “These are read every year or two by our first or second years. Guess how long this copy has been being used in class.” Belle examined the cover, there were no tears and the edges were still straight, the spine had only a few soft creases down it and, flipping through it, she found that none of the pages had been torn or dogeared. She decided to be generous. “Three years.”

Rhonda smiled “Twelve.”

After perhaps a half hour, they reached an empty classroom. The walls were painted white, the desk was bare and the only indication that it was a classroom at all was the long chalkboard that stretched around the room. 

“What is this?” Belle asked.

“If you decide to come teach here then this will be your classroom. You can do whatever you like with it.”

Belle stepped in slowly. As she turned, she could see the posters and pictures that she would put up, the paint job that she would do. She could see the way that the sun would shine through the windows in the afternoon and feel the way that the cool breeze would blow in off the lake.

“What do you think?”

Belle turned back to Rhonda “It’s perfect.”

 

“Most of our young, unmarried teachers live at the school,” Rhonda explained. “We have facilities for both senior and junior staff members and you will find them to be quite pleasing. Food is provided, of course, and staff can choose to eat either in the Main Hall, in the staff room or in their own quarters. We divide the students into houses-”

Belle gasped “Like Hogwarts?”

Rhonda laughed, “Unfortunately, no. Our houses are simply the keep track of the students and make sure that they are happy. Houses are usually between six and fifteen students, all of the same gender but of mixed ages. The house members have rooms in close vicinity to each other with a common room and a staff member’s room nearby. That staff member is the house mother or father, they ensure the happiness of their house members, perhaps lending a hand with some homework or giving advice through a difficult time. The houses each have their own name but they all follow a common theme, to be decided at the staff meeting next week. The house parent assigns rooms and creates the house rules, for instance, inspections to make sure that they are tidy. There is a school curfew of eight-thirty o’clock but it is up to the house parent to decide if that means within the house boundaries or in individual rooms. On the house parent’s day off, another member of staff will watch their house. You would have the choice to be a house mother or not.” She smiled encouragingly at Belle. 

 

In the end, Belle opted to skip the final two-thirds of the tour when the sun began to fade. They had enjoyed a delicious lunch in the Main Hall and toured a good deal of the school, including the sleeping quarters and observatory. They had sipped tea and discussed salaries (which were at minimum almost twice Belle’s current one), and finally Rhonda looked up at her expectantly. “So, what do you think? Will you accept a teaching position here?”

“Rhonda, I love this school and I would be honoured to accept this position.”

The woman almost squealed with glee. “Excellent! Excellent!”

She pulled out a file and handed Belle a contract. Once Belle had read it and declared it acceptable, they both signed, as well as the good-natured cook who had come up to witness it. Just like that, Belle was an Advanced English teacher at the fanciest, most prestigious and most expensive school on this side of the Atlantic.

 


	2. Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's first staff meeting

Belle packed up her necessary belongings and transported them to her new home over the next four days. She greatly enjoyed a two-day shopping trip to equip her wardrobe for the palatial school. As a house-mother-to-be, Belle moved her kettle to her new suite and spent hours perusing tea shops, trying to decide which teas were best suited for any situation that her twelve-to-seventeen-year-olds could throw at her. Each staff suite had a stove and oven, as well as a refrigerator, in the small kitchen so Belle picked up the necessities for scones, muffins and teacakes. At the grocery store she also bought a bag of carrots, some assorted fruit and several chocolate bars that she planned to keep hidden in the freezer.  
Friday was the staff meeting. Belle was terribly excited to meeting her new colleagues and getting started on the school year planning. The morning of, she woke in her new room, washed and dressed quickly and selected a plum from the new basket in the common room for breakfast. It tasted terrible in her toothpaste-flavoured mouth but Belle skipped merrily outside to enjoy the early morning breeze before the nine-o’clock meeting. By eight-thirty, teachers started to arrive and Belle, worried about the state of her dew-damp shoes, returned inside. Once there, she realized that she had not the faintest idea of where the staff room was. Luckily, it was then that the front doors opened to reveal a woman with sleek black hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head.  
“Er- excuse me?” The woman looked up. “Hi, I’m new here and I’m not exactly sure how to get to the staff room. Could you help me?” Belle smiled hopefully.  
“Of course! Here, I’m on my way there now, walk with me?” Belle thanked the woman and fell into step beside her.  
“I’m Melinda, by the way, Melinda Chang. I teach Martial Arts and I’m Head of the Physical Education Department.”  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Melinda. I’m Belle French, I’ll be teaching Advanced English.”  
Melinda smiled and stuck out her hand, “Welcome to Thencedan, Belle.”  
“Thank you.” Belle shook Melinda’s hand, which was strong but smooth.  
“So where did you come from?” Melinda asked as they started up a mahogany staircase.   
“I used to teach at Avonlea Collegiate, for four years.” Melinda stopped abruptly. Startled, Belle followed suit.  
“Wait- you’re the English teacher from Avonlea?”  
“Yes?”   
Melinda’s eyes grew wide. Belle laughed, “What?”  
Her companion shook her head in disbelief, “It’s just, we’ve heard such good things about you, I thought you’d be older - much older - and, stuck up, I guess and you’re just… not.”  
Belle laughed and ducked her head, “That’s- that’s a good thing, right?”  
Melinda nodded instantly, “You seem so nice, it’s just surprising.”  
“Thank you. You seem very nice too.” They walked in amicable silence for a few moments, during which time Belle resolved to turn the conversation away from herself and try to find out more about her new friend. “So how long have you been teaching here?”  
“Five years now, It’s only my second year as Department Head, though.”  
“You became Department Head in three years?”   
Melinda nodded. “When I first came the department was completely made up of men, they were quite shocked when I was promoted above them, but I deserved it and most of them didn’t.” she said simply.  
They had reached the staff room and Melinda held open the door for Belle to enter first.   
‘Staff room’ did not begin to describe the vast space that she now found herself in. The high ceiling arched towards a skylight, which revealed the blue sky above. On one side, the walls were lined with bookshelves and portraits of people who Belle could only assume were outstanding staff members of the past. There was also a large cork bulletin board pinned with neatly arranged notices. The opposite wall had large windows at regular intervals, each one hung with richly burgundy velvet drapes. The affluent room was separated into two parts by a large marble statue of a phoenix which stood in the centre of the wide hall, opposite the large hearth. An enormous table took up a large amount of space at the far side of the statue. Belle approached it and realized that it was a thick cross section of a gargantuan tree, varnished and polished until it shone like garnet. Her breath catching in her throat, she ran two fingers across its smooth surface, utterly awed. The other side of the room was tastefully furnished with smaller desks and armchairs, all of them carved of a dark red wood and upholstered in a rich wine colour.   
“This is beautiful.” Belle sighed.  
Melinda agreed. “Have you taken a look at the phoenix?  
Belle moved reverently towards the towering statue. The phoenix faced the window so she had not yet seen its front. Now, facing it, she could see that it was all marble except for a fist-sized cut ruby where its heart would be. Belle gasped. Along the base of the statue was written ‘COR SINCERUS OMNE MALUM SUPERABIT.’ Melinda came around the statue and saw where she was looking. “It means-”  
“A true heart will defeat any evil.” Belle said in a hushed voice.  
Melinda looked up, clearly surprised. “Yes. It’s the school motto. You read Latin?”  
Belle nodded vaguely and continued to examine the simple yet elegant craftsmanship of the mythical beast. “It’s beautiful.”  
“It is, there’s a twin in the main foyer, only bigger. I have no idea how the school could have afforded them.” Melinda peered around the edge of the statue. “Belle, people are starting to arrive, let’s go get a seat.  
It was true, already there were several teachers seated around the redwood table, many of them had notebooks and pens. As they approached, many of the teachers greeted Melinda, who proudly presented Belle.  
“Do you remember the Avonlea English teacher that the Council was drooling over?” She asked. Many of them nodded and laughed pleasantly. “Well it looks like they managed to woo her after all. Everyone, this is Belle French.” She nudged Belle forwards.   
A red-headed man in a sweater vest and spectacles stood, squinting at her, and offered his hand. “Archie Hopper, Guidance. Nice to meet you. Really? The Belle French?”  
Colouring slightly, Belle confirmed this and accepted his handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”  
Melinda gestured to the other occupants of the table as Archie sat down: the black haired woman was Mary Margaret Blanchard, also in Guidance. The man sitting beside her was her husband, David Nolan, who taught Math. Next to him was Ashley Boyd, Family Studies, and finally Philip Bryer - Calculus, Functions and Vectors.  
Belle greeted each one cheerfully even though she felt a bit awkward under their scrutinizing gazes. She was sure that it wasn’t meant to be rude, but she couldn’t help feeling that they had expected more. With the first introductions done, Melinda suggested that they take a seat and wait for the rest of the staff so that the meeting could get started.  
It didn’t take long for the table to be full and for Rhonda to appear, a young, flustered-looking woman in tow (who Melinda informed Belle was Astrid Fairchild and taught Religion) both of their arms full of files.  
“Good morning, Thencedan staff, and welcome to the first staff meeting of the year!” Rhonda set her files down on the desk and waited for silence. “We have a full agenda this morning, starting with the introduction of the latest addition to our little family!” Someone snorted, Rhonda frowned but kept going. “This year we are very fortunate to welcome, all the way from Avonlea Collegiate, Miss Belle French. Belle, stand up! Let’s give her a warm Thencedan welcome.” Oh dear. Belle stood, she couldn’t very well refuse at her first meeting with her new colleagues. There was some polite applause. Belle’s face was warm as she lowered herself back into her seat.  
“Thank you, Belle, we are very happy to have you. Alright, second on the agenda is houses. Does anyone have a suggestion for house names this year?” In response, several themes were offered, including plants, colours, cities and elements of the periodic table. A debate sprang up when ‘mathematical equations’ was called out and it took Rhonda several minutes to smother it.   
“Alright! Alright!” she called. “We’ll settle this as usual, each department will group together to choose one category. Go.”  
Suddenly, Belle found herself lost in a swirl of people who knew where they were going while she did not. As quickly as it had started, the ruckus died down and staff were grouped into pairs, trios or quartets and discussing options. Belle looked around and finally spotted a woman who was beckoning her. Sighing in relief, Belle joined the group.   
“You must be Belle French.” The woman said. “I’m Aurora Thorne, the English Department Head.” They shook hands. The short man with squinty eyes and very little hair introduced himself next. “Isaac Heller, Writer’s Craft and Post-Colonial Literature.”  
“Pleasure.”  
“So Belle, what we do now is to agree on a category for the house names, then we vote on the categories put forward.” Aurora explained.  
“Okay, so what were you thinking?”  
“Well I suggested famous poets’ names.” Isaac said.  
Aurora rolled her eyes, “and I told him that the names are supposed to be fun for the kids.”  
“You didn’t suggest anything better.” Isaac scowled.  
Belle laughed, “What about literary devices?”  
Aurora smiled “House Irony, House Pathetic Fallacy, House Theme”  
Isaac brightened, then his face fell, “There aren’t enough.”  
“True. What about Logical Fallacies?” Aurora said “House Burden of Proof, House Circular Reasoning, House Historian’s Fallacy”  
“I think it’s brilliant.” Belle grinned. Even Isaac grudgingly admitted that Logical Fallacies would be an excellent category. All decided, they made their way back to the redwood table, this time sitting together. Most of the other departments were finished too, only three groups were still standing. Belle picked out Melinda, listening to a tall and decidedly handsome man with facial hair, his sleeve rolled up to reveal something black on the inside of his right forearm.   
Not recognizing anyone else in the yet unfinished groups, Belle glanced around the table. Opposite her sat a very pretty woman with wavy blonde hair, a rosebud mouth and a slightly disinterested look in her big blue eyes. She was leaning over to talk to- a familiar face! Jefferson Hatter, a History teacher, had been an acquaintance from a workshop she had done last year about teaching juvenile delinquents. She remembered him because she had been surprised that Thencedan would have that kind of issue and he had responded with “Well why did you think it was so expensive?” It had been Jefferson who had first told her that schools were climbing over each other to get her a job offer. She was about to call out to him when Rhonda spoke up.   
“Alright everyone, settle down.” The blonde woman and Jefferson exchanged a half exasperated-half amused glance. “Could we have each Department Head stand and give us their category.” It was phrased like a question but delivered like a statement. Seven teachers stood, including Melinda, Aurora and Philip Bryer. Belle listened, amused, as each department offered their suggestion in turn, Rhonda having ordered the Religion teacher from before to inscribe each option on the whiteboard that she had had wheeled from a supply closet somewhere.

Logical Fallacies  
Greek letters  
Tempo markings  
Muscles  
Historical figures  
Diseases  
Tools

 

“Excellent choices this year, team.” said Rhonda in a slightly pained voice, examining the board “Let’s vote.”   
As it turned out, Logical Fallacies placed third with six votes. The winning category was Historical Figures at ten, followed by Diseases with seven. Belle silently thanked whatever forced decided these things that she would not need to call her girls House Polio or House Tuberculosis. Rhonda also looked relieved. “Very good. Now for house parents. This year we have twenty-five houses. Please come and pick up your files when your name is called. House parents are by last name and as follows: Baldwin… ” Belle tried to memorize names as her colleagues went up but Rhonda did not pause for long between each one so it was too difficult. “Booth… Chang…Cloche…”  
It seemed like forever before Rhonda called: “Fairchild… Fisher… French… “ Belle hopped up excitedly and fetched a fair sized pile of folders, each one containing information on one of her girls. Grinning, she returned to her seat and placed the files down in front of her. Aurora nudged her, “Who did you get?”   
“I want to wait until later when I can pay them proper attention.” Belle explained. “Are you a house mother?”  
Aurora shook her head. “I’m married to Philip Bryer, we live in a little house in the village.”  
“Aw, how sweet!” Belle smiled encouragingly. “I can see how you two would make an adorable couple.”  
Just as Aurora was about to respond, Rhonda called: “Nottingham… Scarlett… aannnd we’re done. Now I’ll just ask Miss Fairchild over here to pass around the timetables and class lists and the meeting will be over.” The poor Religion teacher, her hair now escaping from its previously neat bun, pulled herself up and made her way to the towering pile of paperwork. Belle rose. “Please, let me do half.”  
Astrid looked up but only smiled kindly and shook her head. Belle was not ready to give up, however, “No really, it’ll be an excellent opportunity for me to learn names.” Astrid glanced at Rhonda, then thanked Belle and gave her the top half of the pile.  
Belle was soon glad that she had done so, for she found it far easier to match the face with the name when she was the only one calling names out. She found that Leroy Baldwin was indeed bald and had large, muscular hands. Marco Booth was gentle and had a kind smile, he was not quite elderly but was most likely past the usual retirement age, she wondered why he was still teaching when, based on the salaries, she was sure that any teacher here could retire comfortably at fifty. Celeste Cloche had beautiful blond ringlets and a cherub face with bright cheeks and Sidney Glass had a pleasantly quiet feel about him. Finally, she sat down in her spot with her own folder in front of her. There were no questions and the meeting was dismissed shortly.  
Belle would have skipped back to her room had she not been so concerned about the well-being of her many files.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that you liked it and I'd love to have your feedback and your own ideas! Oh, and Melinda Chang is Mulan.


	3. Friends and Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again and thank you for your support! :D  
> I hope that you like this new chapter, I'm trying to slowly integrate characters so that each one can have a bit more depth. Your comments are always valued! Enjoy!

The peaceful sound of birdsong drifted through the open window of the empty common room. A gentle breeze, blowing in from the lake, rustled the papers spread out over one of the ornate circular desks. A sudden gust carried a single sheet off of the table, sending it quivering into the air. It swirled, lifted on the last legs of the breeze, and fluttered slowly to the floor and landed gently in front of a pair of blue pumps. Belle bent to pick up the errant page, interrupting the pacific tendrils of steam wafting off of the mug in her left hand. They were soon given a chance to reform, however, for the mug was placed just clear of the cover of paper.

“What do we have here?” Belle murmured, turning the sheet over. “Eager, are we, Miss Emma Nolan?” She placed the page on the table with the rest of the files, then sat down, sipping her tea before adding conspiratorially to the small, unflattering school picture pasted to the front page of Emma Eva Nolan’s file “I’m excited to meet you too.”

“Aw! So sweet!” Belle shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin and covering herself in tea in the process. She turned around quickly to see a tall, dark-haired figure bent over laughing in the doorway. She glimpsed her visitor’s face as the woman leaned against the doorframe, trying not to fall over. Even though Belle was completely soaked in hot tea, which, combined with the insistent 

breeze, created an uncomfortable too-hot-but-still-chilly feeling all down her front, she could not help but smile at the infectious peals of laughter. 

Eventually Belle’s guest managed to calm herself down enough to give Belle a concerned and apologetic face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I also didn’t mean to laugh at you but- I mean-” she was interrupted by a coughing laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you just startled me. I think I’ll go and change my shirt but if you’ll stay for tea you could make it up to me by telling me what you know about my new house-children.”

The woman nodded and took a seat at the table.

It took Belle only a few minutes to return, a fresh navy shirt in the place of the wet one and a clean mug her guest. “I hope you like licorice because that’s what we’re drinking.”

The woman, now seated comfortably with her long, slim legs folded in a criss-cross on the chair, gave Belle a red lipstick smile and accepted the cup graciously.

“I am really sorry, and on your first real day, too.” She cringed.

Belle gave a dismissive gesture. “No harm done. Lucas, right?”

Her visitor nodded.

“Ruth?” Belle asked tentatively.

“Ruby, but close.”

“Ruby Lucas. I like it.” Belle smiled brightly, Ruby laughed. “and what do you teach, Ruby Lucas?”

“Visual Arts.” she wiggled her eyebrows at Belle.

“That explains the hat choice.”

Ruby’s mouth fell open in feigned shock, the upturned corners giving her away. “What about my hat?” She reached up to touch it defensively. Belle just laughed.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you, Ruby. I’m Belle, by the way, Belle French, and I teach English.”

“Nice to meet you, Belle. I actually stopped by to welcome you to Thencedan and see if you needed anything. My house is right down the hall, by the way. We’re basically next-door neighbours.”

“Well thank you for your consideration. I was actually just wishing that I could know more about my girls. These forms only really give ages, grades, past schools, and medical alerts. I want to know more about them personally before I can start making decisions.” She turned back to the pile of papers strewn over the desktop, unconsciously tugging at her bottom lip with two fingers.

“Well let me see,” said Ruby, setting down her tea and reaching for the nearest file. She flipped it open, then grinned. “You’ve got Wendy Darling! Such a sweetie. Her baby brother is just starting this year. Mitchell or Matthew or something.”

“You’ve had her?”

“Yep, this is her fourth year of Art with me. She has a gift, you’ve got to ask her to show you some of her work. She’s been really into shadows lately, she’s done some really incredible stuff.”

Belle listened attentively, marking something down in a notebook that was open on the table.

“What’s this?” Ruby reached for it. In immaculate handwriting, Belle had drawn up a chart with each of her house members’ names, ages, best subject, alerts and ‘other’, a space which, on Wendy’s column, now contained the words ‘artist, inquire’. Ruby’s eyes glazed the rest of the list.

“Oh dear.” 

“What?” Belle glanced up nervously.

Ruby looked at her. “You have Emma Nolan.”

“And?”

“And Emma Nolan is…” Ruby cleared her throat, “...spirited.”

The word hung in the air for a moment, as if neither of them wanted to touch it, then Ruby said, in a voice that told Belle clearly that this was Ruby’s polite mouth speaking and not her rational brain,: “I could take her for you.”

“The offer snapped Belle to attention. “No. These are my girls, even if they don’t know it yet. I am going to take care of them and if that means dealing with a juvenile delinquent then so be it.”

Ruby threw up her hands. “Now you’re just putting words in my mouth.”

“That’s not what I- never mind.” Belle sighed. “Here, who else do you know?”

Ruby examined the list again. “You have one of the dancers. The Pointes, they all dance. They’ve been coming here for years and I’ve taught quite a few of them. You have Clarabel, I had Miranda last year and Eleanor the year before. Actually, I think I have Miranda again this year, and the new one, Annika. All of them are some kind of prima ballerinas and they do everything else, really nice girls, good girls. Tink loves them.”

“Tink?”

“Yeah, her real name is Celeste but it’s some kind of variation. She teaches Anthro, Socio and Psych.” She turned back to the list. “Gretel Zimmer, nope, oh, but she’s twelve, this’ll be her first year. Same with Grace Hatter, that’s Jefferson’s daughter.”

Yes, Jefferson had told her that his Grace was starting at the school this year. She’d have to tell him that his girl was in her house.

“Morraine Carroll, very smart. Isadora Cygnus, very good with her hands, she does very well with sculpture. I taught a few of her older brothers but most of them had graduated by the time I got here. I think she has seven. Beatrice Clever, my god that girl can think on her feet. One day Rhonda came in when we were watching the Olympics in class and Bea told her that I had put it on so that we could take note of how the athletes’ bodies moved. She said it was to demonstrate motion so that they could put more effective movement in their pieces.”

“Was it?”

“Pff, no! It was Friday and they wanted to see the Ice Dance.” The common room was filled with laughter when a knock came at the door.

“Come in!” Ruby called.

“Ruby? What are you doing here?” asked the woman as she entered.

“Welcoming our new neighbour, of course!” She grinned at Belle.

The red-haired woman approached, a friendly smile on her face. “I’m Ariel Marsh, I teach Music. My house is just on the other side of Ruby’s.” She stuck out her hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Ariel. I’m Belle French, I teach Advanced English. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Ariel joined Ruby at the table as Belle went off to grab another mug. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask all day: what’s the difference between English and Advanced English?”

Ruby looked up, “Uh, one is advanced?” Ariel swatted at her.

“Advanced English is for the students who would find regular English class too easy. The students who would be bored in a normal classroom because their own abilities far exceed the course expectations.” Belle explained.

“Oh, okay, that makes sense.” Ariel accepted the tea with a thank you and turned to the papers strewn over the desk. “What’s this?”

“Her house.” Ruby explained simply, still looking over the files in her hands.

“Oh, do you know what you’re going to call it?”

“I was thinking Diana, Arc or Malala. I can’t really decide. How about you?”

Ariel smiled “Jacques Cousteau.”

“Naturally.” Ruby mock-snarked, then, turning to Belle, “She’s obsessed with water.”

“Am not!” Ariel elbowed Ruby in the ribs, “What are you calling yours, Romulus?”

“What! No!” Ruby cried defensively, but the look on her face told Belle otherwise. “If you must know, I was going to go with Remus.” She added haughtily.

“Well  excuse me.” Ariel lifted her mug to her lips, a victorious expression on her face.

“Who have you got?” Ruby asked her.

“In my house? Mostly Hamelin kids.” Belle nodded. Rhonda had explained that a good number of their students came from a relatively nearby (and extremely wealthy) town. “You?”

Ruby ticked them off on her fingers as she went “Two Pointes, two Liddells, Georgianna Orsino, Dorothy Gale, Anna Frost and four new students.”

“Four twelve-year-olds?”

“No, two of them are twelve, the others have just transferred. Still, it should be interesting, what with two sets of sisters, and you've taught Anna."

Belle tried to listen but, though her two companions often cut in to comment on their house members, the names meant nothing to her. Instead, she returned to her own pile of papers.

“I think I’ll just put the youngest ones closest to my room, in case they get homesick” She decided aloud, “and then mix up the rest of the order so that they can make new inter-year friends.”

Yes, that would work, that would work nicely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to introduce some of the students before hand so that it wasn't a big name-dump on the first day of school. I've had to scrape to bottom of the fairy tale barrel in order to get enough students. I'd still like more, if anyone has ideas. Prompts are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts!  
> Have a marvelous day!


	4. House Malala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma goes to school.

If Emma Nolan could have seen the way that Belle enthusiastically went about the next week, she may not have whined so much on the morning of September first. If she could have seen the triumphant look on Belle’s face, her nose streaked with paint and her hair loosened from its bun, as she surveyed her beautiful, freshly-painted classroom, Emma may not have scowled at her parents over her breakfast cereal. If she could have known the care with which Belle painstakingly created eleven original name plates out of craft paper and the pages of the copy of  Heidi which Belle had found in Ruby’s wastepaper basket, then pinned each one to the respective bedroom door, then maybe Emma wouldn’t have complained so much about how heavy her school trunk was. Unfortunately for her parents, however, Emma had no way of knowing any of these things and was now sitting, arms crossed in the back of her family’s car. 

“This uniform is stupid. Why did you have to send me to the only school in the country with five courses a semester anyway?” she growled “Isn’t four torture enough?”

Her mother smiled and responded patiently: “Well, it’s the best education money can buy, we just want to give you your best chance.”

Her father nodded, turning around to look at her over the back of the seat “and since your mother and I both work there, we get a discount! How ‘bout that, Emmakins?”

She sneered and turned to face the window, rolling her eyes at the childish name. She resolved to spend the rest of the car ride in hostile silence. 

 

As soon as the car pulled up, Emma reached for the door, unbuckling her seatbelt and dragging the suitcase out as she went. “Bye!” she called as she threw the car door. Going to the same school where her parents taught was excruciating but at least she was a boarded while they lived in a little house in the nearest town with her little brother. That was another pro; Emma wouldn’t need to listen to their babbling baby-talk until Thanksgiving. Making her way towards the front doors, she could see several other teacher’s-kid students. On the first day of school, students arrived when they could based on proximity to the school but the usual arrival time was between noon and four. Teachers had to be there early though and if your ride had to be there early, then so did you.

“Emma!” she turned. A boy with floppy brown hair was waving at her. 

“Hi, Bae.” She smiled, waiting for him to catch up to her before continuing on her way towards the main entrance.

“How was your summer?” 

“Okay, I guess, I didn’t really do much. My Dad tried to teach me how to fish but he didn’t exactly remember how and we ended up falling in.”

Bae laughed. “Oh no. We went to Scotland to visit my great aunts, it was great.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah.”

They had reached the doors and now they entered and went to the long sheets of paper with the lists of students, separated into grade and again by gender. These gave houses and suite numbers. They walked through the empty halls, suitcase wheels whirring on the floor, until they found the fourth-year sheets.

“Which house?” Bae asked Emma once he had found his own.

Emma traced her finger down the list. “It looks like…House Malala.” she turned to her friend “Does that make sense to you or is it a typo?”

Bae nodded“Yes, Malala Yousafzai. She just won a Nobel Peace Prize, she’s only seventeen. The houses must be named after leaders or something.”

“Huh. What’s yours?”

“House Houdini, with Scarlett, W.”

“Oh, Mr Scarlett. I took his business class in my second year. He’s nice.” Emma peered at the list again. “French, B. Do you know her?”

Bae shook his head. “Maybe she’s new?”

"Well, I guess I'll find out. See you later, B-Dog." She taunted, using the hated name that had been thought up by Killian last year.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Right. I hoped maybe you'd forgotten."

"Never in a million years. Seeya."

She turned and strode off down the hallway, her trunk's wheels catching on the way.

 

Emma had to drag her trunk up two flights of stairs before she got to the hall where the girls' houses were. Panting slightly, she pulled the large bag behind her, both hands on the handle, as she searched for Suite 8.

Here it was. She paused in front of the door, where a full-page, colour photo had been mounted on pretty craft paper and pinned to the door. Above it were the words 'Welcome to House Malala'. She examined the picture. So this must be the seventeen-year-old Peace Prize winner. The girl in the picture was beautiful, with brown eyes and a colourful headscarf wrapped loosely around her hair. She looked nice, and smart, thought Emma. Whatever. Her stupid bag wasn't going to put itself away. 

Emma turned the knob and entered the house suite. It was almost identical to the ones she had lived in over the past years: the common room contained a fireplace, a large number of armchairs, fancy wooden tables for homework. It branched off in a hallway, with bedrooms on either side and a washroom with fancy showers. On the opposite side was the door that led to the house mother’s rooms. Last year Emma had been in House Snowdrop with Ms Fisher, who had kept ice cream in the freezer for birthdays and marks higher than 95%, so Emma knew that the door led to a kitchen which adjoined to whatever was beyond by yet another door. 

Tugging her trunk through the door, Emma looked over her shoulder to see if there was anyone here. She seemed to be alone in the suite. Finally she succeeded in wheeling her case over to a table that was laid with large envelopes fanned out in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Without a house mother present to direct her to her room, Emma flopped down in one of the armchairs and pulled out her phone. 

It was just as well that the door opened when it did because Emma had run out of lives on Candy Crush. She sat up slightly in her seat and listened closely. 

“So I won’t be able to visit you here because these are the girls’ rooms but I’ll be very close and if something is wrong you can ask Miss French and I can meet you at the office or something.”

The man’s voice was definitely familiar but without seeing his face she could not be sure which teacher was there. 

“I know, Papa.” Great, a twelve-year-old. In Emma’s second year, in Ms Mills’ house, Alice Liddell had cried every night for the first week. 

“I can stay and help you set up your room, if you want me to.” Hatter, it was Mr Hatter, her History teacher from last year. He sounded worried.

A sweet, accented voice responded instead of the girl. “No, no, you go off and help your own house. I’m sure you have students waiting for you already. I promise that Miss Grace is in good hands.” So this must be Miss French, thought Emma.

“Yes, Papa, I’ll be fine.” The little girl wasn’t crying yet, at least.

“Alright, if you’re sure. Call me if you need anything, okay?” He sounded very hesitant.

“Okay.”

“I love you, Gracie.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

The door closed and Emma could hear the footsteps receding. 

“He’ll be fine, he just needs to get used to it.” She heard the elder voice say, once they were sure that Mr. Hatter was out of earshot. Miss French (she presumed) and Grace both laughed.

“Let’s get your things put away, shall we? Your room is just here.” 

Once Emma had heard the pair move down the hallway with the bedrooms, she hopped up out of her seat and grabbed her bag. Quietly, she dragged it towards the door, which she then opened and pretended to enter for the first time.

“Hello?” she called. She heard the muffled conversation change tones and a woman quickly appeared through the door of the first room on the left of the corridor. 

Emma was surprised to see her. Not only was she young, but she dressed like it. Emma was accustomed to teachers who wore tight, knee-length pencil skirts and blazers, or Miss Lucas, who was kind of an artist and dressed accordingly. This woman wore a navy blouse patterned with white anchors and a dark skirt that swirled around her legs as she walked. Her hair was a silken chestnut and fell in thick curls onto her shoulders. Still, strangest of all, she seemed to be thrilled to see Emma. 

“Hello!” She said brightly. Then she tilted her head and asked “Emma, right?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Well, let’s just say that you look much better in person than in your school photo from last year.” She had a lovely way of speaking, her accent accentuating her friendly, approachable aura.

Emma groaned, “Our files?”

The teacher nodded, “I’m Miss French, by the way, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma. Would you like me to show you your room?”

Emma nodded and followed Miss French down the hall. Her bedroom was the fourth on the right and, pinned to the door, was a beautiful name plate. She looked at it in wonder. Pages from what must have once been a book had been pasted at angles over a piece of cardstock. A quill had been made from an old piece of sheet music and some tan thread, its end even forming a point identical to the tip of a fountain pen that Emma had once seen in a shop. The word ‘Emma’ had been drawn as if written, which Emma knew must have been difficult due to its size, with the inky black tail of the ‘a’ ending at the tip of the quill. It must have taken hours.

Miss French had seen that she was staring. “Do you- do you like it?” she asked, as if anyone could dislike this.

Emma turned to her “It’s beautiful.” She looked around and saw that each door had a different name on it and each nameplate was different from the next. “You did all this? Why? It must have taken hours.”

Miss French seemed, if pleased by Emma’s reaction, still confused by the question. “I wanted there to be something pretty here for you, I wanted to make you feel welcome.” She smiled earnestly at Emma “I want you to feel at home here.”

Realizing that she had been staring scrutinizingly at Miss French’s face for slightly longer than was socially acceptable, Emma cleared her throat and said “Thank you.” She motioned lamely at the door “I’d better…”

“Yes, yes, go and unpack. Call me if you need anything.” Emma nodded and closed the door behind her. This was very strange. Miss French was not like Ms Mills, who seemed to have viewed the position of house mother as simply a rather unpleasant aspect of her job, or Ms Fisher, who had tried to be ‘the cool teacher’. Nor was she like Emma’s parents, who were nice to a sickening extent, like drowning in honey. No, Miss French was different and somewhere deep down, Emma knew that this was going to make all the difference.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,   
> I know that this one is more awkward than the other three but for some reason it's easier to write Belle than Emma, sorry :(   
> I hope that you liked it anyways and I'd love to have your feedback and ideas!  
> Happy Canada Day!


	5. Homey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once finished unpacking, House Malala gathers in the common room for tea and chit-chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your interest and support! Your comments always make me smile.  
> I hope that you like this new chapter, I wanted to give character to Belle's girls and give the house some bonding time.  
> If you like, I could figure out how to post a list of characters for reference and add to it as they are introduced. I mean, I think I could, I'm not terribly gifted when it comes to technology :/  
> Anyways, here it is, happy reading!

There was an excited, new air about the common room, as if each of its occupants were feeling a slightly different ratio of the same emotions. Seven of Belle's girls were now seated around a table with their house mother, a mug of tea in front of each one. Grace and Gretel sat side by side on Belle's left, having already been introduced by the latter and having bonded over being new and twelve. On Belle's other side sat Annaliese Hercegno, who had an infectious laugh and sparkling green eyes. She was almost identical to Erika Koldus, who sat beside her. The two had assured Belle that they were of no blood relation and had met in their first year at Thencedan. Across from Erika, Marcella Savitum had grinned evilly and the doppelgangers had snickered in a way that told Belle that this likeness had been put to less-than-moral purposes. Next to Marcella, Wendy Darling had raised her perfect eyebrows and said, in her upper-class London accent, “Oh dear.” This had wrought giggles from even the youngest two, who had sat in an out-of-place quiet for the past few minutes. Clarabel Pointe, the eldest of the group, and who had assured Belle that she prefered ‘Clare’ or ‘Clara’ (“Clarabel is a little precious, don’t you think?”), had then gotten up from her seat between Wendy and Erika and offered to fetch seconds of tea for anyone who was finished. The response was several “Me, please”s and enough cups to require a second pot of tea being made. Almost as soon as she had disappeared into the kitchen, Isadora Cygnus had appeared out of her bedroom, having finished unpacking, and taken her seat. 

“What do you teach, Miss French?” Isadora asked, politely, after Erika had called “Another cup of tea, Clary!” into the kitchen. 

Belle put down her cup, swallowing “Advanced English, English Literature and Media Studies.” she said. 

Annaliese perked up, “Really? I’m taking English Lit. this year, but I didn’t know we had an Advanced English program.”

“You didn’t. This is my first year here and before that you didn’t have enough teachers.”

“Where did you teach before?” Erika asked, unknowingly cutting off Marcella, who had also opened her mouth to ask a question. Belle nodded to her before answering Erika. “Avonlea Collegiate.” A few of the girls smiled and nodded, while others giggled. “Hey.” Belle admonished, “Avonlea is an excellent school.”

Marcella put an end to the school rivalry by inquiring after timetables, which set off a flood of enthusiastic questions. 

Belle threw up her hands “Whoa, whoa! Yes, I’ve got your timetables, I laid them out on the other table but none of you took them.” She motioned to the envelopes, fanned out on a nearby desk, then pushed back her chair to get them before the seven girls could throw themselves at the table.

Coming back, she sat down and passed them out. The ensuing commentary was quite amusing. Each girl slid her sheet tenderly out of the envelope the second that it reached her, then examined it closely.

“Yes! I’ve got Ms Midas for History!” exclaimed Wendy.

“Has anyone had Cloche, C.?” asked Marcella, “I have her for Anthro. and Psych.”

“Miss Cloche? I’ve heard she’s really good.” affirmed Erika. “I have her too, Anthro. and Socio.”

“Wait, Anthro. third period, first semester?”

“Yep.”

“Me too!”

“Hey! I’m in your Advanced English class, Miss French!” grinned Annaliese. Belle beamed, she felt as if her heart might burst. She had been so nervous about being a house mother, what if the girls didn’t like her? What if they hated school? What if they hated each other? So far, it seemed as if she had worried for nothing, however. These girls were sweet, they seemed smart and they were definitely excited about school. Best of all, they seemed to like her.

“Me too!” cried Erika.

Suddenly, all of them were excitedly checking their English courses.

“So am I! Only third year.” Wendy chirped.

“Period two, semester one, Advanced English, French, B.!” Marcella added happily.

“Awn, I have to wait till next semester.” whined Wendy, having checked her schedule again. 

“I have Miss Thorne.” pouted Isadora, then elbowed Wendy, “Do you think I could switch?”

“Miss Thorne has all the first and second year classes.” Belle explained, and was met by sighs from her three youngests. 

Clarabel returned now, placing a tray of full teacups in the centre of the table. “Hey, you.” She pulled out a laughing Isadora’s chair, then scooched onto it next to her. “What’s this?”

“Timetables.” answered her seatmate.

Belle flipped through the remaining envelopes until she found  Pointe, Clarabel , the handed it to Clara.

“Thank you!” Clara flipped it open and slipped out the sheet, placing it on the envelope to read it. “Hey! Media Studies, French, B.!” she smiled widely at Belle.

“Let me see!” Isadora tugged at her arm. 

“Yes! I have Mr Gold for Chemistry again!” Clara cried.

“What? Lucky!” Marcella exclaimed, “I heard that Ms Kelly-Malachite might take over a few of the Chemistry classes because they’re in higher demand than Physics.”

Erika snorted. “What she doesn’t realize is that Chem is in higher demand  because she teaches Physics.”

“Hey, these are my colleagues you’re talking about!” Belle teased in mock offense.

“Are you honestly saying that you  like Ms Kelly-Malachite?” Annaliese raised one eyebrow.

“Hm, well, I may not exactly have  met the teacher in question as of yet, I mostly know the English Department and a few Social Sciences and Arts teachers at the moment. Still, you can never know what’s in a person’s heart until you truly know them, I’m sure that Ms Kelly-Malachite is lovely when you get to know her.”

There was a pause during which the elder students seemed to be trying to decide if she was serious, then they looked at each other and burst into laughter. 

“You have  clearly never met Ms Kelly-Malachite.” Erika gasped, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard.

Belle looked at Grace and Gretel, who seemed to be as confused as she.

Finally the girls tired themselves out. One by one, they quieted, some sighed, wiping away stray tears and rubbing their sides, seemingly satisfied.

“Finished?” Belle asked. Annaliese nodded.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to insult your co-workers in front of you.”

“Yeah,” Marcella agreed “that was rude, it’s just-” a few stray giggles seemed to be left because she was cut off by trying to smother them.

“It’s fine, I want you ladies to feel comfortable talking about anything in here.” She paused to reconsider “Almost anything.” she decided. They nodded.

“Almost anything what?” Emma had joined them.

“Emma! I didn’t know that you were in this house!” smiled Wendy.

“Wendy, hey, yeah, sorry about that. I took a nap after lunch. Neal cried all night again last night. Definitely not going to miss that.” 

Wendy clucked sympathetically and pulled up a chair for her friend. “Tea?”

Emma shook her head, “No, thanks.” She yawned.

Wendy gave her a pained smile, then said something in a low voice. Emma’s eyes widened, then she reached up to touch her hair, which was messy. Wendy leaned closer again, whatever she said. Emma responded with a nod and “In my closet.”

Wendy patted her shoulder and stood, excusing herself.

“Timetable, Emma?” Belle held out an envelope. Emma looked confused at first, the reached for it, thanking her house mother.

“Who do you two have?” Clarabel asked the pair of first years, encouragingly.

Grace answered first. “Uhm, Nolan, D. for Math, Fisher, S. for Science, Thorne, A. for English…”

As the sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds commented on the schedules of the youngest students, giving encouragement and praising certain teachers, Wendy returned, a hairbrush in hand and a girl with auburn hair pulled unceremoniously into a ponytail in tow.

“Finished unpacking, Beatrice?” Belle asked. 

The girl nodded, “Sorry that it took so long, I probably brought more books than was strictly necessary.” She smiled sheepishly.

Belle nodded understandingly and offered tea, which Beatrice, pulling up a chair, accepted enthusiastically. It took some doing to get her chair out, the table was now unbelievably cramped, but belle succeeded, accepting empty mugs and polite requests from three other girls. When she reached the kitchen, she leaned back against the counter and grinned at the ceiling. This was more than she could have hoped for, these lovely, polite girls who took care of each other, laughed easily, drank tea like it was going out of style and brought suitcases full of books to school. Listening to their merry chatter drifting through the door, she thanked anything and everything that she had accepted this job. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just figured that I'd give you the House Malala characters and their counterparts :D
> 
> By age...  
> Grace Hatter (12) - Jefferson's daughter Grace/Paige  
> Gretel Zimmer (12) - Hansel and Gretel (there are too many Ava/Eva -s in OUAT so I renamed them to Gretel and Hudson)  
> Isadora Cygnus (13) - The Seven Swans   
> Beatrice Clever (14) - Clever Beatrice (go figure)  
> Wendy Darling (15) - Peter Pan  
> Emma Nolan (15) - Emma Swan  
> Marcella Savitum (16) - The Princess and The Pea   
> Annaleise Hercegno (16) - The Princess...  
> Erika Koldus (16) - ... and The Pauper  
> Clarabel Pointe (17) - The Twelve Dancing Princesses
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and PS. 'Kelly' and 'Malachite' are both shades of green.....


	6. The First Supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has dinner with colleagues and makes a new acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that it's all you hoped for :D

On the first night, house parents were expected to lead their houses down to the dining hall and then sit ensure that their house members sat together in a spot designated for them. Belle reluctantly said goodbye to her girls at their section (number eight, just like their suite) and went to join the other teachers at the head table. Ruby soon joined her. 

“So, what do think of your house?” Ruby asked, reaching for her water glass.

Belle sighed, “I love them, I could not have dreamt of ten more perfect girls.” 

Ruby snorted, then cried out as the water came out of her nose. 

Belle cringed, laughing. Ruby’s throat turned a bit pink and blotchy as she wiped her face with her napkin. “Blech, that did not feel nice. Anyways, you just wait. Ten teenagers? Give it a month and you’ll be begging to transfer back to Avonlea.”

Belle shook her head. “I love it here and I love my girls.  You  wait, my girls are perfect.”

The sound of a chair being pulled back drew Belle’s attention to the seat across from her, where Jefferson was seating himself. “So?” he asked anxiously, “How’s my Grace?”

Belle smiled at him, “You have a lovely daughter, Jefferson. She’s doing fine. She’s already made friends with Gretel, another first-year girl in our house. She’s warming up to the older girls too, both of them are.” She reached for his hand across the table, “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

Jefferson nodded, then twisted around in his seat to look at section eight, where Grace was laughing with Gretel and Isadora. When he turned back he looked slightly reassured. 

Ruby leaned towards Belle, motioning for her to lean in too. “He pulled some strings, you know, to make sure that his daughter would be happy in her house. He chose to put her in your house above any other house mother.” Ruby retreated, looking at Belle meaningfully as she raised her water glass once again, then looked at it in distaste before it reached her mouth and put it down again.

Belle turned back to look at Jefferson, who was watching his daughter again. Grace seemed to be telling a story quite animatedly, she chanced to look up and waved to her father. He had trusted her, Belle, to take care of his daughter and make sure she was happy over any of his long-time colleagues and experienced house mothers. Why?

Belle was not meant to find out, it seemed, for just then Rhonda rose from her seat and went to stand at the top of the short set of steps that connected the students’ dining area to the teachers’ elevated one (Belle assumed that this was so that they could supervise more easily from their tables). Rhonda tried in vain to command the attention of the student body before raising two fingers to her mouth and whistling loudly. Belle winced. Ruby covered her ears. The hall fell silent.

“Much better.” Rhonda smiled. “Welcome, everyone, to a new year at Thencedan Academy. We are very glad to see all of your bright, young faces, ready to learn!” She paused but if she had expected a response then she was disappointed. “Hem, alright,” she pulled a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket “first on the agenda, we have a few housekeeping points…”

“Hey, is this seat taken?” Belle looked up, startled, to see a handsome-ish man gesturing to the seat beside her. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his t-shirt and leather jacket, even thought he looked out of place in the sumptuous dining hall. Belle glanced down the nearly-empty table, then nodded and smiled invitingly. 

He smiled, “Cheers.” The chair scraped as he drew it back to sit. Rhonda paused and turned, scowling. He gave her a cheeky little wave. There were snickers from the students. Belle ducked her head and Rhonda turned back irately to her captive audience. 

The man turned to Belle, his bushy eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Oops.”

Belle muffled her laughter with a hand. He looked pleased, then stuck out his hand, “Will Scarlett.”

Belle placed her hand in his, which dwarfed her own. “Pleasure to meet you, Will. I’m Belle French.”

He nodded, his head bobbing in a funny way that reminded her (before she could stop herself) of some kind of livestock or an apple in water. “Right, the new one.”

“Yes.”

“English?”

Belle nodded, “and you?”

“Business. You a house mum?”

Belle tilted her head and quirked her lips, ‘ house mum’ she wasn’t sure she liked it. “Er- yes, I’m house mother for House Malala.”

He bobbed his head again, “Right, right.”

“Are you- are you a house father?” It felt odd to speak to someone who had such a blase attitude. He spoke as if there was something in his mouth.

“Hm? Yeah, yep, House Houdini.”

Belle smiled, it seemed to fit. 

 

After what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, Rhonda finished her speech and the school meal staff arrived with carts covered in platters of food, which they laid on the tables to be passed around. 

“How many classes have you got this semester?” asked Ruby, helping herself to green beans.

“Four, and you?” Belle lifted her plate as Ruby offered to serve her too.

Ruby sighed, “Four, only my break is in the morning and I have three junior classes in the afternoon so I’ll have to go from lunch to supper without speaking to someone older than fourteen.”

Belle laughed. “I have a third year and a fourth year class in the morning, then Media studies, a spare period and a fifth year class in the afternoon.”

Ruby groaned, “See? You have it so much better.”

Belle pursed her lips but didn’t mention that Ruby taught Visual Arts. “You, Jefferson?”

“Hm? Oh, I have two third year History classes in the morning, then Post-Renaissance, Ancient Civ. and a free period in the afternoon.” Jefferson glanced over his shoulder again, then accepted the offered plate from Ruby.

Ruby leaned forwards and, with a smug look at Belle, asked innocently: “What about you, Will? What classes do you have this semester?”

“Huh?” Will paused, his meat-bearing fork halfway to his mouth.

“Classes,” Ruby said sweetly, “which ones do you have?”

“Oh, uh, fourth year business, com tech, then lunch, budgeting, break and third year business, which is basically intro to com tech.” He waved his fork loosely above his plate as he spoke.

Ruby looked like a child on Christmas morning. “Well, who would have thought? You and Belle have the exact same spare!” She grinned at Belle, then folded one hand beneath her chin and popped a piece of carrot into her mouth.

“Well I guess we’ll see each other in the staff room.” said Will.

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Ruby added.

Belle smiled amicably at Will. “That would be nice.”

Their meal went on this way, Jefferson continually turning around to check on Grace, Ruby seeming to be wonderfully entertained, although by what Belle was unsure, and Will being generally friendly. By the time that Rhonda stood again, Belle was full and tired. She listened attentively to Rhonda’s closing remarks, then stood with the rest of the teachers to lead her house out of the dining hall. As she started to walk, she felt someone grab her hand. She turned and looked confusedly up to see that it was Will.

“Uh- yes?”

He smiled at her and said “Goodnight, Belle.”

Belle gave a little laugh, “Oh, goodnight to you too, Will. It was nice to meet you.”

“Me too- I mean, it was nice for me to meet you too.” He shook his head a little and Belle laughed amiably. 

“I understand.” She looked at him strangely but it took him a moment to realize that he still had her hand in his. He released it with an embarrassed look and she excused herself to fetch her house.

Belle was walking purposefully towards section eight when Ruby nudged into her side, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “What’s making you so happy?” Belle asked, amused.

“What was that?”

“What was what about?” Belle shook her head, smiling. 

“He likes you.” Ruby looked fit to burst.

“Who?”

“What?”

“What?”

“ ‘What?’ ?” Ruby grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt.

“Ruby, I-”

“  ‘Who?’ Will , Will likes you.”

“Wait, what? No.”

“Yes” Ruby insisted. “He thinks you’re pretty and smart, which you are.” she added.

“No, why do you think that?”

Ruby rolled her eyes and made an exasperated noise. “Belle, he sat next to you, the new teacher, instead of anyone else, who he’s worked with for years.”

“He was being friendly.”

“He was late and we were the  furthest table from the door he came in by.”

“Ruby, I need to get my house.”

“Fine, but you’re not getting out of this conversation, Missy.”

“I beg to differ!” Belle called back as she walked away. She thought that she heard Ruby call “Clueless” but she didn’t turn to check.

House Malala was waiting at their table.

“I’m so sorry, ladies, I was held up.”

They stood, many of them grinning at her. “Yeah, we saw.” Annaliese smirked.

Belle opened her mouth, then realized that she had no idea how to respond and closed it again. She cleared her throat. “Let’s get back to the suite.”

They followed her out of the dining hall like ducklings, a few of them yawning. Apart from the giggles and soft chatter that Belle could hear between the older ones, there seemed to be only lulling conversation. It had been a long day and Belle could feel it too.

It took only ten minutes to reach their suite, despite their slow, post-supper pace and when Belle unlocked the door they all gravitated fairly quickly towards their rooms. Once they had disappeared, Belle sank into an armchair to read until her girls were in bed but she found that she was reading the same passage over and over again so she laid her book down on the side table. One by one, the girls exited their rooms, now pajama-clad, and headed for the washroom with their toiletries bags. A few minutes later, they began to return, calling “Goodnight, Miss French!” before entering their rooms and closing the doors behind them. Belle waited until she had counted ten goodnights and ten shut doors. She waited fifteen minutes, then did a quick headcount, as Rhonda had advised, making sure that lights were out and the girls were indeed in their beds. Most of them were already asleep. Finally, this done, Belle leaned back against the last shut door and smiled. She could do this. Then she went to her own room and shut the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away for the summer and I'm not sure what my free time and wifi will look like. I'm hoping to be able to put out a chapter every week, at least but just in case I can't, I promise that I'm not going to leave this unfinished.


	7. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of classes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
> Firstly, I hope that you all had a beautiful summer!  
> Secondly, I'm really sorry that I haven't posted anything in so long, I've been super busy and out of the reach of wifi.  
> I hope that this chapter is worth the wait and, as always, your feedback and ideas are greatly appreciated.  
> Happy reading!

Henry Mills had sat through his first class of the year in quiet boredom as Mr Nolan had outlined the course goals. Math had never been particularly exciting to him and, while Mr Nolan was nice, his teaching methods were the oldest in the book. The 'cool' teacher whose relaxed approach was sometimes appreciated, sometimes boring and most certainly forgotten the day that you received your diploma.

The moment the bell had rung, he had rushed to meet Bae at the second floor landing so that they could walk to their shared English class together.

Bae was already there when Henry arrived.

"How was Math?"

"Meh, same old, same old. 'If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask', 'there are almost no stupid questions', et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."

"Too bad. Biology was great, Ms Drake is awesome. She's a little scary but I can tell I'm gonna learn a lot."

"Hah, like your Dad!"

"My Dad is way scarier than Ms Drake. Hey, do you know where we're going?"

"Yeah, gimme a second." Henry pulled his timetable out of the pocket of his uniform. "116."

Bae nodded, "I thought 121 for some reason. Whoops."

Henry laughed, holding the door at the end of the first floor landing open for his friend.

"Thanks, where are we?" Bae looked across the hall at the nearest classroom. "112."

"113's that way", Henry pointed down the hall.

They peered through the doors as they passed them, both of them waving to Ms Thorne when they saw her. She was entering her classroom, bag in hand.

"Hello, gentlemen. Where are you off to?" Ms Thorne had been their English teacher for the past two years.

"English- but Advanced." Bae said cheekily.

"With Miss French," agreed Ms Thorne, "you'll like her, she's lovely."

Henry waved goodbye as he followed Bae through the doorway. Suddenly Bae stopped and Henry walked right into him. He was about to reproach his friend but then he caught a glimpse of the room over the shorter boy’s shoulder. He stood stalk still and gaped as his eyes took in the classroom.

Never in his life had he seen anything like it.

The room was very large and longer than it was wide. The blackboard stretched across the entire front wall (one of the short sides) and ended just before a door near the other corner. The teacher had claimed this corner as her own.  No, Henry shook his head, the teacher had claimed the  entire room as her own. The colour scheme that she had chosen would have been well suited to a lovingly arranged nursery. Two walls were faintly tinted with coral, feather grey and a soft hue that was either palest pistachio-green, a robin’s egg blue or somewhere in between. The colours were so pale that they seemed almost to be only hinted at instead of actually there, the quietest whisper of chroma. The back wall had been carefully adorned with a pearly wallpaper whose pattern was indecipherable from this distance. A long, low, darkwood bookshelf ran the length of the class opposite the door, fitting so perfectly under the tall windows that it seemed to have been made for that purpose. The space between the windows had been painted a smooth off-white. The pale walls made the room seem bigger even than it was.

Perhaps more remarkable, even, than the paint work was the Miss French’s choice of furnishings. Somehow she had managed to get her hands on twenty-some desks of which no two were the same. Some were old and made of soft-looking wood, others new and sharp, all ranged in colour from deepest walnut to palest birch. Some had adjoining chairs, others seemed to open from the top. 

There were several posters in solid-coloured but otherwise unalike frames hung around the room. The text displayed like modern takes on old circus posters or printed ads, only their headlines read “Metaphor” and “Paradox” and “Oxymoron.” A large poster at the far end of the painted wall read “116 Verbal Penitentiary”, it sported rows of envelopes, each with a title and a list, though Henry could not make out the words.

About half the desks were full already yet the room was quiet. Most of the students who were seated already were twisting around in their seats to look around the classroom. Henry followed Bae to a pair of open desks behind Wendy Darling, who waved and dimpled when she saw them.

They did not wait long in the uncharacteristic quiet for within a few moments of Henry getting settled at his brown-sugar-coloured desk, the door at the front of the room opened and a young woman emerged. 

The English teacher could not have been much older than twenty-four. Her dark chestnut curls lay obligingly over her shoulders, bouncing only gently as she entered the room backwards, pausing to finish a quiet conversation with someone in the adjoining room. When she turned he could see that she was holding a seafoam folder and a cardboard box. Smiling, Miss French set these items neatly on her desk, then looked at her class for the first time.

She did not speak at first. Instead, she moved slowly to the front of the room, taking in her students with a curious expression on her face. It was as if, Henry thought, someone had left a finely wrapped gift on her desk. There was absolute silence, and then the teacher spoke.

“Good morning and welcome to third year Advanced English!” Miss French smiled as if she were proud of them.  The English teacher’s accent caught Henry off guard, it added a sincere, cheerful note to her words. She began to make her way composedly down the rows of desks. The class held their breath.

“Now tell me, who wants to be here?” She looked around. With her position near the side of the room, a good portion of the students were turning in their seats to watch her. Henry raised his hand, as did Bae, Wendy and a few others. Miss French gave a small smile, then continued her stroll around the desks.

“I’m a teacher. My job is not to dump projects on you, it is not to give you essays and then tell you where you went wrong and it is not to force classic literature down your throats. My job is to make it possible for each and every one of you to reach your full potential in the area of Language Arts.” Every eye in the room was on her. Miss French looked around at them, making eye contact as she introduced herself.

“Do you know where the word ‘student’ comes from?” Her question was met with silence. Henry knew the Bae, whose father insisted he take Latin, was bursting to answer, but amazingly, he controlled himself.

“The word ‘student’ comes from Latin,  studeo, studere , to direct one’s zeal to, to be eager for.” She began to walk again. “The Ancient Romans had it right. To learn or achieve anything, one must  want to do it. So the first step to doing my job is to make sure that each of you  wants to be here.”

She stopped and turned to examine her class. Henry felt as if she were really seeing each one of them and for some reason it sent a shiver down his spine. After a moment, the teacher spoke again.

“I am Miss French and I promise each one of you that I will do everything in my power to make this classroom somewhere that you  want to be.”

  
  


“It was amazing! Her classroom is amazing, she’s nice, she’s funny, she’s pretty. She gave us all these erasers - look!” Henry turned and fished it out of his bag, then held it up as triumphantly as if it were a gold nugget. The gaggle of teenagers followed his account with expressions of jealousy, indifference and varying levels of mockery but this did not sway Henry, he was on a roll. “She said that she wants us to use them often and that an eraser can give you the chance for a fresh start and room for improvement. She said that knowing that we have can rework things should make us more comfortable with writing. I love her!” He said enthusiastically.

“Who do you love now?” Killian, appearing behind Henry, reached down and disordered his’s hair, Henry grimaced.

“Miss French.” Emma supplied, un-moodily. She had been focusing on her lunch and not watching Henry as he told his story but he knew that she had been listening. When Emma Nolan didn’t care to listen to a conversation, she started a new one.

“Huh, you in Advanced English, then, mate? Figures. Anyways, Emma, love, shall we go and find that hall you were talking about?” She nodded quickly and, shoving her plate forwards, stood up. The little group watched the pair leave.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Henry remarked once she was out of earshot.

Bae cocked his head disapprovingly but it was Wendy who answered. “Don’t be so hard on her. You know that she’s always had difficulty with academics and you’ve been going on about how great Advanced English is. She feels left out.” 

Henry considered this, “It is pretty great.”

Wendy dabbed her lips primly with the silk napkin. “Oh, god, yes. I’ve never enjoyed a first class more. Miss French is wonderful, she’s my house mother, too. It’s just not nice to talk about it in front of Emma.” 

Bae smiled “She’s not here now, though.”

Wendy grinned at him sideways and then leaned across the table towards Henry, Bae, sitting next to her, followed suit. “No, she is not.” There was a pause. Wendy placed a delicate hand over her heart, “Did you  see the posters in her room?” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to go with Sundays for new chapters.  
> I love reading your comments and your ideas are always valued.  
> Thanks for your time!


	8. One Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold's Chemistry class is dismissed for the day and he has a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,  
> Whew, life is crazy! I am so sorry, I completely failed my goal of a chapter a week, I had not anticipated how busy I would be. Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait, I'll be posting new ones as often as possible. I do, however, stand by my previous promise, which was not to let this story go unfinished. I really do enjoy working on it. Anyways, enough preamble. I hope that you like this chapter and, as always, your feedback is much appreciated. I have quite a few ideas but any of yours would be welcome. Enjoy!

“...meaning that the average mass of an atom is not necessarily the same as any one of the isotopes.” He paused next to the dark haired boy in the back row. “Tell me, Mr. Jones,” the boy’s head snapped up in surprise, “is a helium atom larger or smaller than a hydrogen atom?”

A few of his classmates snickered but most were silent as Jones stared at the teacher in bewilderment. “Er, I- I don’t know, sir, bigger?”

“Incorrect, dearie.” Then he snapped: “Sit up straight, Jones, pay attention and you just might risk learning something.” He cracked the cane down on the floor before moving on, “What is a Helium atom made of? Miss Gale.”

“Two protons, two electrons and almost always two neutrons, sir.”

“Quite right, and hydrogen, Miss Pointe?”

“One proton and one electron, sir.”

“Very good, and what is the charge of a proton, Mr. Cygnus?”

“Positive, sir.”

“Correct, and the charge of an electron? Miss Liddell.”

“Negative, sir.”

“Good. Now tell me, Mr. Jones, what do positive and negative charges do?” he stopped behind the front lab counter, spreading his arms and leaning forwards, peering across the room at the fifth-year student.

“...Attract…? Sir?”

“Indeed, now, if hydrogen has one set of attracting charges and helium two, which one will be larger?” For a long moment, Mr. Gold ignored the several raised hands and stared directly at a squirming Jones. Finally, when it was clear that Jones did not have the answer and had been put in his place, Mr. Gold, without breaking eye contact, said quietly “Miss Hercegno, help out our dear Mr. Jones.”

Annaliese’s green eyes flicked for a second to her teacher, but she did as she was told. “The stronger attraction compresses the atom, sir, giving elements with more electrons a smaller circumference.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Gold stared at Jones for another second before turning to his desk area. “Homework pages are by the door, as always. They’re due tomorrow so do finish them tonight and Mr. Lyle, if you’re about to ask if they will be marked, then I hope you think twice and put down your hand. Much better, dearie.”

Mr. Gold leaned idly on his cane as his last class of the day filed out of the room. The first day of classes was going very well. The students had arranged themselves as quietly and apprehensively as he could have hoped. Word of mouth seemed to have risen to the occasion because his new students were already afraid of him. Once the classroom was empty of students, Mr. Gold ambled over to his desk, where he sat down at the computer to send in the day’s attendance and make a few notes. After classes were done for the day, students had an hour to spend as they pleased before supper time. This was usually spent in study hall or the various physical education facilities. Luckily for him, Mr. Gold had strategically gotten his name off of the supervision list for these activities two weeks into his first year at the school.

After only a few moments of quiet computer work, and much to his surprise, Gold heard the door creak open. Quickly, he glanced around the classroom, but students simply did not forget their things in his class. By the time he had ruled out that possibility, the intruder was already in sight.

“Bae!” He grinned.

“Papa!” Bae rushed over to embrace his father.

Mr. Gold hugged him tight, then pushed him back by the shoulders to examine his face. “So, my dear boy, how are your classes?”

“Excellent, Papa. I have Biology, Active Living and Latin, they’re all good, but Papa,  oh , my Advanced English class!”

“What? It’s not good?” Mr. Gold studied his son’s face anxiously but Bae was fiercely shaking his head.

“Papa, it’s not like any other class I’ve ever had. The classroom - you should see it - and the desks, and she told us that the course is not going to be easy but it’ll be worth it, and she told us - oh, Papa, it was amazing!”

Mr. Gold laughed, awed. Bae liked school and was a generally diligent and applied student but he had never spoken like this about a class before. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it so much, son, truly.”

Bae nodded and smiled up at his father.

“How are your friends?”

“Fine, I’m actually supposed to meet them now for study hall so I’d better go, I just wanted to check in with you.”

Gold smiled, he loved his son more than anything and it warmed his heart that his boy would think to come and see his father to tell him about his day. Sometimes he regretted not having sent Bae to a day school so that they might live a normal life together, eating together every evening, doing normal father-son things, but Thencedan offered the best education so when he had been offered the job and told that Bae, who was just old enough to join, would be given free admittance, he had accepted. This way, at least, he could be close to his boy. “Well then, you’d best be off. Thank you for coming to visit me, though. I always like to hear about your day.”

Bae grinned and gave his father a tight hug before cantering out of the room. Gold watched him go, smiling softly to himself, then returned to his desk. Advanced English, who’d have thought?

 


	9. One Hundred and Ninety-Five To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought that you deserved at least this. I find that this chapter doesn't exactly carry on the flow of the story but I wanted to add Regina and Robin (because I love them) and have a bit of a break from the repetitive settings (believe me, they will get repetitive). I've had this for a while but I think that it fits better after the Gold scene because that's how it would fit chronologically. I hope that you enjoy it, and, as always, I love to hear your thoughts, ideas and suggestions. Enjoy!

Regina wiped down the blackboard in her third-storey classroom. The first day had gone as well as could be expected. Students who took Law and Political Science were generally much more diligent and willing to apply themselves than the ones who chose courses like Family Studies or Shop and Regina found that this customarily assiduous group worked even harder when you painstakingly developed the right reputation. According to the Public Affairs teacher, Regina was known for her excruciatingly hard marking - true - , her terse address during lessons - also true - and her wildly informative, passionate and interesting class. Sidney had, of course, paraphrased and his was not the most reliable summary, yet Regina’s students rarely misbehaved and almost always returned for her subsequent courses.

She was lost in thought as she slowly cleaned the board of words like ‘judiciary’ and ‘deadlines’ and therefore did not hear her visitor enter. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her struggle to reach the top of the board despite her high heels.

“Need some help, there?” 

Regina gasped and whipped around. When she saw him she brought the hand with the wet rag in it to her chest and leaned back against the chalkboard. “Robin! What on Earth was that all about? You think you’re funny, do you? Well I’ll- no!” She realized then that her unconscious reaction to her relief had left a damp spot on the front of her spotted eggshell blouse. Robin was bent double laughing at her.

Regina tugged helplessly at her top before furiously turning to Robin. “Are you kidding me? You know what?” She threw the cloth at him, missing and hitting the wall above him.

“I’m sorry, really, I am, ‘Gina. No, no, look here,” She refused to look at him as he approached. “Come on, Regina, I didn’t mean to give you a start, honest.” She met his eyes when he was standing close enough to touch. “Forgive me?”

She fixed him with a stern look. He raised his hands, “Okay, okay, but what if I were to show you this?” Knowing that he had piqued her interest, Robin reached back with one hand and fished a key ring from one of his pockets. Her eyes locked on it as he raised it up before her. As head of the Physical Education Department, he had the keys to all of the equipment rooms - and the stables.

Giving them a tempting jingle, he took the tiniest step closer. “How about you forgive me and then we go and take Persephone out?” He tried to control his smile, he knew that Persephone was Regina’s favourite and she knew that he knew it. “She missed you over the summer,” he added.

“You stop, she’s a horse, you don’t know that.”

“She won’t take an apple from anyone else. I had a stable hand come complaining to me not two weeks ago. Said he’d never seen a horse do that, not in his twenty years working with them.” He jingled the keys again, “So, do you want to or not?”

“Oh, of course I want to, let’ go.” Regina snatched the keys from his hand and squirmed between Robin and the wall. Her face was the image of composure but her eyes were bright and her pace was quick enough for Robin to know that she was excited. There was also the bit about her not saying that she needed to get her riding things from her room but instead surreptitiously grabbing a shoulder bag from behind her desk as they passed. Yes, he thought, this was going to be a lovely evening.

 


End file.
